The Witless Wonder
by Ninazadzia
Summary: Passion. Chaos. Imperfection. That was Neville's relationship with Luna Lovegood. Written for Milly for the 2014 GGE.


"And I don't know who you are."

The statement was simple enough, so Neville didn't exactly know why he hesitated. Maybe it was the way the girl's gray eyes seemed to cloud over, as if she'd already lost interest, or the fact that his toad Trevor couldn't stop gnawing on his finger. He thought for a minute before turning back to her and speaking.

"I'm nobody," he said, not bothering to keep the misery out of his voice

"Oh." She turned back to her magazine without making any effort of introducing herself. Not that it mattered, either way, considering Neville already knew who Luna Lovegood was. From time to time he'd overhear the fourth year girls talking about her, or rather making fun of her radish earrings and her ramblings of nargles and snorkacks. Judging from the wispy blonde hair and upside down Quibbler in her hands, Neville figured that if this wasn't Luna, no one else could be.

_Nobody._

"No you're not." Neville turned mildly, throwing a glance in Ginny's direction before cowering under her sharp glare. "Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood. Luna's in my year, but in Ravenclaw."

Dreamy-eyed Luna then proceeded to say something that must've been a reference to Ravenclaw house, at which point Neville decided it was better to wallow than to do anything else. He'd seen the way she'd stared at Harry earlier; normally, he wouldn't particularly care, but the fact that no one, not even a nutcase like Loony Lovegood, wanted to talk to him was hurtful, to say the least. But he supposed he'd gotten used to it. He was, to paraphrase his Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher from the previous year, "the witless wonder." It was a title he decided to accept.

_Brilliant way to start your year, Neville, _he thought, taking a shaky breath as everyone else in the compartment continued to talk without taking much notice of him. _Brilliant that you have to start your fifth year without any confidence whatsoever. Just brilliant._

Oh, was Neville petrified of his fifth year. He knew he wouldn't be the only one, since they all had to take their OWL exams. But it was safe to say that no one else in his year had ever scored less than a fifty percent on his potions final, which had officially put him below Crabbe and Goyle in the subject. In truth, the rest of his finals hadn't been much better, transfiguration especially. So maybe he _was _top of his class in Herbology, and he was obviously Professor Sprout's favorite student. But what difference did that make?

_Who in their right mind gives a damn about plants?_

These were ludicrous thoughts running through Neville's head, and he knew it. Herbology was his love and passion, and deep down, he knew that what he'd been telling himself all summer was rubbish. But come July, once he turned fifteen, it seemed that Neville had realized something crucial. He'd decided that he was only capable of being ordinary; he would have an ordinary life, with an ordinary family in an ordinary home. He was not meant to be anything more.

In the back of his mind, he knew that he was tearing himself down when he should've been building himself up. But it's easier to dislike yourself than it is to like yourself, and "easy" seemed to be the only thing a witless wonder could handle.

* * *

Two and a half years later, once Luna Lovegood was the center of his _everything_, he thought back to that day a lot.

He remembered that low, incompetent feeling. He remembered the way that the sweat had rolled down the back of his neck, as he sat in the train compartment with his friends. He remembered what he used to tell himself. _You're nothing. You're ordinary. You're dumb, and boring, and a waste of space. Just accept it and move on. _

And then—somewhere in between learning how to defend himself, infiltrating the ministry, and single-handedly rebooting Dumbledore's Army—things changed. _He _changed. What exactly happened, he couldn't say. All he knew was that the crushing weight of his existence, the _anxiety_ that had once plagued him every day, was gone. And oh, was he ever so _grateful _for it.

Otherwise, he never would've gotten a chance with Luna.

"I'm mad for you, Luna."

It wasn't exactly the eleventh-hour confession he'd hoped for. Pieces of Hogwarts' infrastructure fell all around them. Bloodcurdling shrieks pierced the air. And he stood, when he was supposed to be a soldier in combat, confessing his love for Luna Lovegood.

A more timid Neville would've balked. He would've fled before seeing her reaction. He would've apologized. But instead he waited, and watched as Luna Lovegood—the girl he'd fantasized about for over a year—broke into the wide smile.

So he didn't hesitate. Out of desperation and hunger, adrenaline and euphoria, he leaned in and kissed her. She reached up and grasped his face in her hands, and as he felt her soft, porcelain fingers stroke his jawline, he couldn't help but think back to the day they met. They day he'd convinced himself that she found him uninteresting, unattractive, naive.

She certainly didn't find him uninteresting anymore.

He was the one that pulled away. "Can we talk about it later?" he asked

She nodded. "Of course. Our friends need us now."

"Right." He turned on his heel, ready to run out. But—just because he didn't know whether or not he'd be dead or alive in, say, twenty minutes—he turned around. And he planted one more peck on her lips.

"In case there isn't a 'later,'" he said.

She took his hand in hers, and squeezed it. "There will be."

* * *

They didn't last, but that didn't matter.

To say that it was the best summer of his life wasn't the truth. Too many people were dead. There was too much chaos. Voldemort's death didn't bring immediate order, and neither did the Battle of Hogwarts. Things weren't fixed. Things weren't perfect.

But Neville didn't need 'fixed,' or 'perfect.' Because when he spent that entire summer with Luna Lovegood, it was exactly what he thought he wouldn't want. He always believed that he wanted simple, easy, and natural. He wanted the affection, and he wanted the comfort, but he was too afraid to think of ever getting anything more than that.

Passion. Chaos. Imperfection. _That _was his relationship with Luna Lovegood. He spent two months dating her, kissing her, making love to her—and it was the blinding Technicolor of an impractical summer fling that made it so special.

There weren't getting married, and they both knew it. But, God help him—to say he was 'mad for her?'

Now that was a _vast_ understatement.

* * *

"_It was a long night_

_We ran along into the spotlight_

_You sang a song that made the children cry_

_And all the people knew my name_

_It was a bright light_

_These lands combine into a great big mass_

_We sang along to the very last_

_Oh the jury stole my fame"_

**~Cover Up** by Imagine Dragons

* * *

**A/N: This was written for the lovely Milly for the April 2014 GGE. Thank you so much for including Neville/Luna in your pairing list, doll, because I loveeeeeee those two together :D**

**Also I PROMISE that I'll have my March GGE fic up by Sunday at the latest—I can't believe how late I'm running with that. But better late than never, right?**

**xx Nina**


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